Overshadowed
by Neocolai
Summary: AU in which Theseus is sorted into Gryffindor and is still attending Hogwarts when Newt begins his schooling. It may be Theseus' last year, but he'll make sure his kid brother's off to the right start. Even if he has to challenge all four Houses to look out for him. (Genfic)


_Disclaimer: Neocola still does not own any rights to Fantastic Beasts or anything related to J.K. Rowling's works, which is a real pain because I would demand more action figures for the franchise._

 ****Note: This story is AU** regarding timelines, since according to birth dates Theseus is nine years older than Newt and could never have attended Hogwarts at the same time. **Also, Theseus is actually a Hufflepuf** f, and I butchered that particular fact since my headcanon focused on him being in Gryffindor and I didn't want to upheave the entire plot to rewrite it. For the purpose of this story I brought Theseus' age down to a seventh year student and left the incorrect house in place.

 **(So nobody complain about the ages being incorrect and Theseus being a Hufflepuff, because I've already addressed that in the Author's Note.) 0_o**

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* * *

"Don't tease my brother."

It's a simple statement directed to the seventh year Gryffindors when they find eleven-year-old Newt in the greenhouse, avidly studying an immature mandrake even though it's the nightmare of the second year Herbology and he's far too young to be extracting the screaming root for Potions class. Greggory Artz begins to snicker before Theseus shoves past him and crouches beside the boy, tapping on his earmuffs.

"Almost finished there, Newt?"

"I'm nearly done, Theseus!" Newt protests, carefully breaking off a yellow leaf as the mandrake howls. "Professor Sprout said I could look at it."

The bell tower sounds, putting everyone five minutes behind, and Professor Sprout clears her throat, indicating for the tardy first year to find his own classroom. Theseus merely claps Newt's earmuffs tighter over his curls, steers him around his fellow classmates, and shoos him off to his next class.

He fixes Greggory with a firm glare and states calmly, "That's my brother. Leave him alone."

Shuffling sheepishly, Greggory grins and nods. Theseus is well liked - ambitious and reliable, with a charismatic air that easily makes him the most popular student among his peers - and any friend he chooses is guaranteed an equal level of respect. If young Newton Scamander is an oddity to be sheltered, then the Lions of Gryffindor will defend him. They might bunt him off to his classes when he lingers, and tease Theseus about his baby brother turning him into a mollycoddler, but they won't depreciate the curly-haired Hufflepuff.

Colors and houses aside, he's one of their own now.

* * *

"Look after my brother, okay?"

Hufflepuff is reputable for its soft-hearted students and warm, bubbly tutors. Of all the houses for little Newt to fall into, Cecily Lewis thinks that he's fortunate to be sorted into the badgers. They instinctively form a protective cluster around the small, dazzled troop of first-year students, many of whom have left home for the first time and some of whom have no other friends. Newt is welcomed into the warmth and enchantment of Hogwarts without a single shed tear for his absent parents.

Bright-eyed and inquisitive, with a healthy dose of social awkwardness to oppose his brother's easy, gregarious nature, Newt is instantly endeared to every soft-hearted student and compassionate professor. Even the house elves seem inclined to leave extra sweets in the common room whenever the first-year is huddled in his customary window seat. His avid interest in animals pushes him ahead with his reading, and Cecily is astonished to find him one night reading a fifth year textbook on magical creatures. His brother's name is elegantly scripted on the inside cover. The pages are so worn and creased (unlike Theseus' careful page markers) that it's clearly not an idle peruse or a fascination with pictures. Thomas Blake shares the opinion that if Newt was to be anything but Gryffindor, he should have been sorted into Ravenclaw.

That theory is quickly varnished when Newt begins to flounder in basic spells and transfigurations. Theseus makes a habit of strolling by the Hufflepuff dorms just so that he can "pop in for a moment" and spend the next hour tutoring his brother. The pattern becomes so predictable that Cecily starts brushing her hair to a golden sheen every night, inspecting herself crossly lest a single strand be out of place. Any night now, she hopes, the Lion may look past the cub and see a lioness standing behind him, hiding behind a badger's mask.

If only.

* * *

"You're Scamander's little brother."

It's an association that Newt has to suffer constantly. Big brother Theseus, six years ahead, has earned the pride of his tutors and the patronage of his classmates. Newt hates being compared to him. Theseus hasn't failed a test or missed a class, people don't give him funny looks when he talks, and even the Slytherins step aside when his entourage of housemates and _girls_ parade down the hall. Theseus isn't _odd,_ or _weird,_ or _incompetent_ (and just 'cause the older students think first years are ignorant doesn't mean Newt doesn't understand what they're saying when they use big words around him), he doesn't _mess up_ , and everyone talks about him like he's the future Minister and destined to change the wizarding world.

"Hey, don't tease the kid - Theseus said to leave him alone."

"That's Scamander's little brother. Best not to mess with him, or you know who's going to hear about it."

Newt knows he's never gonna "pick his own battles" like his father tells him he ought to do, because Theseus has already fought them for him, and Theseus always wins. So while the older students might ruffle his hair and tug on his scarf in tease, they never bother him. They just _whisper_ things whenever Theseus isn't around.

He tells himself it doesn't matter. Horntail dragons are more interesting than his classmates, and he learns more about owls and salamanders from the library than he ever read at home. If he concentrates on animals, people sort of … melt away. That's what matters, making the bad feelings go away, so he watches insects and dabbles with the creatures in the lake, and studies them in books until his head spins, and eventually the information just pops out of his mouth without any hard thinking at all. Professor Dumbledore says he's brilliant.

He doesn't realize he's becoming a Bad Student until Jenny Davis starts crying after class.

* * *

"You really want to do this, Cass? You know Scamander won't take it well if we upset his kid brother."

"Hush up, Falon," Cassandra Davis snaps, sweeping down the corridor with her distraught sister in tow. Poor Jenny's hand is clammy and too warm. She must've been weeping for the good part of an hour before Cassandra ran to find her. All because of that beastly Scamander boy.

"We shouldn't upend the study hall," Jason Falon warns, appealing to her sense of discretion. "Just tell the professor in charge and let it go."

"The professor's never there, remember?" Cassandra says tartly. "Besides, I'm not starting a fight. I'm just going to tell him to leave my sister alone."

Jason sighs. "Theseus is going to throw a paddy."

He doesn't stop her from charging into the study hall, though. Even without speaking her cause, Cassandra has already amassed a small crowd of her housemates. They know what's coming. A young eaglet has been scorned, and when the fledglings cry, the Eagles unsheath their talons.

Poor Newt Scamander hasn't got a chance.

* * *

"Leave the Scamander brat alone, unless you want all of Gryffindor down your back."

Occasionally a lone snake might prey upon a sleeping lion, but every serpent knows that when Lions hunt in packs, it's best to stay clear. Bryant Rivera doesn't fuss with the curly-haired badger like some of his peers. Not because the twit _isn't_ a miniaturized, freakish stray of the Scamander household, but because it's not worth the scowls and the eventual trouncing guaranteed for meddling with one of Gryffindor's favorite pets. Nobody has to tell him twice that picking on Theseus' brother is asking for trouble.

Frankly, Bryant thinks it's embarrassing that the proud Scamander family would produce a glassy-eyed, ninny-headed Hufflepuff, but he knows better than to say that outside of the Slytherin common room. Theseus has broken a few teeth over the years, and not just his own. An honorable snake respects its equal predator. Bryant may not agree with pampering the pigmy puff of a brat, but he won't pick on the kid either.

Doesn't mean he'll go out of his way to chase off the ghosts and bogarts, though.

He soundly defends his opinion until he hears the ruckus outside of the study hall on the one day when the PiC (or, "Professor in Charge" as they dub whatever lout is stuck watching the class) conveniently fails to show up. At first it sounds like the second years have thumbed their noses at their studies and set up a pseudo revolution involving shredded homework and damaged books. The low pitch of older students yammering pegs it down to another ghastly "statement of class" where some unfortunate, needled outcast is harangued to the point of tears and shuffled off to the nearest lavatory to snivel miserably until everyone goes to bed.

Wary, but curious as to who is being singled out this time, Bryant pops his head around the corner and peers above the shoulders of a few other sixth years. There's a short kid in the midst of them, crying over the strewn pages of a fifth year _Monster Book of Monsters_. Bryant can't make out exactly who it is thanks to the curtain of Cassandra Davis' rumpled, Ravenclaw uniform fluffing around her as she stands over the first-year and pokes him in the shoulder, yelling for an apology. Behind Cassandra a younger, first-year version of herself is sobbing pathetically, cuing the impression that yet another sibling has been teased, and this ignorant Hufflepuff is going to be cast away for life due to such a paltry matter as pulling a girl's hair in class.

What a load of tosh.

Idly Bryant leans against a bookcase, waiting for the dreary, predictable outcome. A few more students stray into the study hall to witness the commotion. Nobody bothers to stop it. One of the Ravens whispers to her friend, "It's that freakish kid," but the implications slip Bryant's mind.

Green fabric darts out of the corner of his eye. For an instant Bryant frowns, astonished to see that color in the study hall, until he realizes who it is, and then it's hardly a surprise at all. Leta Lestrange shoves her way through the throng, shoving irritably at apathetic sixth years, before her eyes settle on Bryant and she hurls towards him.

"Oye! Take it easy!" First years. He forgets how excitable they can be. "What's got your tie in a knot?"

"They won't listen to me!" Leta says breathlessly. "Tell them to leave him alone!"

"I'm not a bodyguard for every first-year that bungles up the semester," Bryant retorts. First-years are the worst. Give them a few years stuck together and they learn to handle their own battles amongst their peers. Until then, every big brother or sister has to pick a fight. He wants nothing to do with it. "Go get the headmaster if you're wrung up about it."

"He's my friend!" Leta argues, stamping her foot.

Ugh, only Gryffindors are supposed to be this loyal. And stubborn. But then, Lestranges are renowned for getting what they want.

"Fine. I'll tell the headmaster," Bryant offers to placate her. He might have fun seeing Cassandra taken down a peg or two, anyways. "Who's getting the mickey this time?"

"It's Newt," Leta says, pointing into the center of the mayhem. Cassandra sways for an instant to look behind her, and Bryant finally sees the mop of curly brown hair that begs to get a wad of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum tangled in it and has been declared off-limits to all pranks and headlocks. His hands slide down to his sides and he mumbles a curse that make his Mum pop him in the mouth with a silencing spell.

"Go get Scamander," he tells Leta in a low voice. He glances down, frowning when Leta hesitates like a copper snake balking at the thought of a lion's den. "You deaf, Lestrange? Chivvy off before they break apart and those filthy birds clear off without a nob the wiser!"

Leta takes off at a run, good girl that she is, and Bryant rolls up his sleeves. Time to scatter a few feathers among these upstart louts. The Lions are about to come roaring, and if there's going to be a scuffle in the corridors, he wants to be on the winning side.

* * *

"Mister Scamander! You must come quickly!"

Theseus is notably surprised to see a Slytherin first year running pell-mell towards them, curly hair streaming behind her like a black curtain. She pulls up short of the huddle of seventh-years, bracing her hands on her knees.

"Bryant said to fetch you," she gasps. "They've cornered Newt in the study hall and there aren't any teachers to break it up."

Instantly Theseus drops to one knee and grips the young girl's shoulders. "Who is it and where?" he asks quietly, his voice as steady as though he was strolling in the greenhouses, and brimming with the oath to maul whoever has taken advantage of his kid brother's naive nature.

"In the study hall," the first-year says. "Cassandra Davis."

"Thank you." Without a word to his friends he takes off, black shoes whispering against the grass. He is the perfect silent predator. The sheen of thin ice. The wind carrying the first drops of a torrent.

He doesn't have to look over his shoulder to know that the Pride is following in his wake.

* * *

There's a sea of green and blue tussling in the Study Hall when the Gryffindors charge inside. A tawny-haired Slytherin is in the center of the throng, standing toe-to-toe with Cassandra Davis and slandering her with the most profane obscenities. A knot of serpents has joined him, uncoordinatedly holding off the jabbing Ravenclaws who are three insults shy of docking the Slytherin upstart over the head. Swarmed by older students, Newt is hunched in his chair, his eyes glazed and fearful, small hands pressed tightly over his ears.

Springing over a table, his wand latched in white fingers, Theseus grabs the collar of the Eagle closest to Newt and lashes out with a nonverbal jinx. Jason Falon lets out a startled yelp before he falls backwards, his legs folding under him like melted jelly slugs. Cassandra whips around just in time to duck the next jinx, and the fifth-year behind her skitters back as her wand slips from her fingers like oiled glass. In the space of two spells the hall erupts into flashes of magic. First and second years sprint away from the pandemonium, third-years are pushed back by wiser students, and the sixth and seventh years try to paste one another against the nearest wall. The tumult is quickly organized into Claws versus Talons, while the Slytherins steer clear of hurtling chairs and the Hufflepuffs organize damage control. Cassandra goes down with a pimple jinx, Bryant narrowly avoids a petrification spell, and Cassidy Lewis huddles over Newt, repelling any stray jinxes that veer too close.

As his Pride advances, Theseus slides into a subtle retreat, sliding back one easy step after another, his wand arm a constant fluctuation of spells imprinted into his memory, until his back is to his brother and the Gryffindors form a valiant circle around the small badger. The Eagle's wall is buckling, faltering into a floundering, flapping flock of flightless fairy-wrens, and Theseus estimates it needs but one gentle push to clip their remaining feathers. They'll never peck another cub.

He twirls his wand in a flawless leg-locking jinx, prepared to end the miserly conflict, before a rolling, booming voice commands, " _ **ENOUGH!**_ " and every student falls back, shielding his or her ears from the thunder of a Sonorus charm. Neglected wands clatter to the floor. Shoulders tight and fingers limp, the students retreat into their huddles, avoiding the frosty glare of the Headmaster.

"What is the meaning of this display?" Professor Black demands, striding through the mob of shuffling teenagers. "Is there no respect for the honor and tradition of these sacred halls? Who caused this disturbance? Answer me!"

"Scamander started it," Cassandra is quick to rat out, salvaging her pride as she juts out her chin, defying the humiliation of the scattered pustules marring her pretty face. "He cast the first spell."

"Oye! You lot were picking on Newt first!" Greggory exclaims.

"If he hadn't been such a nob, they wouldn't have teased my sister!" Cassandra retorts. "Look at that cheeky git, always showing off in front of the professors just like his - "

"Silence!" Professor Black bellows. "I will have order!" He glowers at each student in turn, disgust pinching his eyebrows together. "It seems we have a lack of propriety among the youth. Every one of you will serve detention nightly with your designated professors - until the end of the term."

"But that's not until Christmas!" Jason yelps.

One scruffy eyebrow launches towards Professor Black's hairline. "Oh? Perhaps I am too lenient then, Mister Falon."

"It's fair enough, you louse!" Bryant whispers savagely, kicking Jason in the ankle. "Put a sock in it before we're locked up until end year exams!"

Nodding sagely at the extension of control, Professor Black strolls up to Theseus and regards him with shrewd, crackling eyes. "Have you nothing to say, Mister Scamander?"

Breathing out evenly, Theseus swallows his pride. He is a cool wind; a reprieve against the scorch of sunlight; a heralder of the icy storm. The Headmaster may bear himself like a mountain, cold and immovable, but the wind always veers around the obstacle and continues its path unchecked. "Nothing, Professor," he says calmly.

"Very well…." Basking in the security of his position, Professor Black gives the students one last foreboding look and sweeps from their midst, communicating to the professors, "See to it that these students report after their classes."

Given the variety of expressions ranging from bewildered, to sympathetic, to outright disgruntled, Theseus can assess which professors will be more lenient. He catches Professor Dumbledore's eye and minutely indicates his head towards Newt. A somber, slight nod, and the first-year's alleviation is assured. Professor Dumbledore won't keep his students past supper with tedious extra assignments, or assign grunge work like scrubbing cauldrons and hearths. Detention for Newt will be boring, but he'll have it easy compared to some unfortunate blokes.

Besides, this might be the perfect opportunity for him to work harder on his studies. The professor has a talent for enlivening anything so dreary as a History of Magic. The extra one-on-one time, combined with the presence of other students in a safe environment, might even coax Newt to come out of his shell and encourage him to socialize with his peers rather than hide behind his brother's old textbooks.

As for Theseus himself, he can handle Professor Black's cantankerous stares and monotonous workloads. So long as Newt is secure, he can tolerate any batty, old professor with illusions of sovereignty. This is his last year, after all, and the conflict won't end with Professor Black. There's a whole new realm of snobs and nitpickers waiting for him in London. Ministers and aurors and commissioners and every manner of snitch and corker who will stand between him and his objectives. One by one, he'll learn his boundaries and slip through the cracks. One by one, the wind will surpass them all.

He's only sorry that he has to leave Newt to survive on his own after this. He's got one more year to look after his brother.

Best to make the most of it.

* * *

"You're Scamander's little brother."

It's Newt's second year at Hogwarts, and he's used to hearing the glowing praise following that acknowledgment. Theseus was the perfect student; the level-headed master of spells; the one who couldn't keep any professor upset with him for long. Theseus had distinct, legible handwriting and matched grades with some of the Ravenclaws. Theseus was a favorite among the professors. Everyone liked him.

"Not everyone. Cassandra hated Theseus," Leta reminds Newt when she catches him in the window one day, thumbing aimlessly through his brother's third-year Book of Monsters. "She looked _awful_ after he hit her with that pimple jinx. Most of her housemates didn't like him after that."

"It wasn't my fault I knew more than Jenny," Newt mumbles. It still stings, a full year later. He didn't know the other students would tease Jenny Davis when she was outmatched by a Hufflepuff. He'd been more careful not to speak up in class since then. Better to avoid acknowledgment than to be singled out by a crowd.

"That fight was rubbish," Leta grouches, flouncing down on the windowsill beside Newt. "Even Bryant was friends with your brother afterwards, just to get back at the Ravenclaws. Houses shouldn't be choosing sides."

They're an odd sort, Leta thinks to herself, watching Newt's grubby fingers run reverently over his brother's neat, precise notes. She's been vying for respect and companionship since her parents prodded her onto the train. Newt's had it handed to him thanks to his family's legacy. Both of them have been foiled and cast out by the pretension of society. At least Newt had someone to stand up for him that first year. He'll never know how much Leta envies him for his brother.

If only she had someone who cared half as much.

"I just want people to look at me for who I am," Newt admits. "I'm good at stuff, too. I can talk to the owls, and find animals when they're lost. I don't want to be like Theseus."

He'll never achieve that level of greatness. At Christmas parties and socials the grown-ups would look at Theseus like they were greeting the future Headmaster, or the Minister of Magic. Even the _Minister_ said Theseus was destined for great things. No one ever looks at Newt and expects him to be an auror, or a professional quidditch player, or even a Knight Bus driver. He'll be stuck with a desk job in a cramped, dim office because Theseus is the golden light of the wizarding world and now that he's gone, Newt's progress won't matter much to anybody. Maybe with all those busy, important people praising his talents,Theseus will even forget to come home for Christmas. He might forget that he has a younger sibling.

It's Newt's second year at Hogwarts, and he's still living in his older brother's shadow.

He wishes he would've hugged Theseus a little longer at the train station.

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 **AN:** While I'm a proud Slytherin myself, and I hate picking on any Houses, please keep in mind that students are sorted according to key personality traits and there are some expected "stereotypes" for each House. I tried to acknowledge the differences and typecasts between the Houses and still redeem the nobler aspects for each student. (My sincerest apologies to the Ravenclaws. Yes, they were the antagonists this round, but the Gryffindors bullied Harry Potter in the books and the Slytherins always got the bad rap for everything else, so it would've been old hat to make one or the other the main culprit. Needling stretches across all Houses and there was enough bullying happening in Newt's era to make any House a plausible adversary.)

 **Canon Notes:**

Some of these Hogwarts professors seem to be practically immortal, since I looked it up and Pomona Sprout would have been Newt's Herbology teacher as well as Harry Potter's. And then there's the Headmaster before Dumbledore who lived to be over three hundred...(?)

Albus Dumbledore wasn't the Headmaster at this time, nor was Armando Dippet if I followed the timeline correctly. I can only assume the current Headmaster was Phineas Nigellus Black, the most unpopular Headmaster in Hogwarts' history. (Feel free to correct me if another Headmaster was named during Newt's school years, though.)

 **Drop a review in the Niffler's cup on your way out! :3**


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